


Not Ready Yet

by witchee_writer



Series: a different path to happiness [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Protective Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchee_writer/pseuds/witchee_writer
Summary: Steve woke with a gasp, his heart racing, his hands shaking. He wished he could say it was the first time, but that would have been lie. The nightmares were all too common, but the warm hand sneaking around his waist was new, Billy being there for him like this was new, everything about them was new but Steve might have been a little bit in love anyway.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: a different path to happiness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106177
Comments: 1
Kudos: 85





	Not Ready Yet

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series but can just as easily be read on it's own.

Steve woke with a gasp, his heart racing, his hands shaking. He wished he could say it was the first time, but that would have been lie. Something in the woods screeched and he flinched so violently he almost knocked his glass of water off of the bedside table. Steve felt like he was lost, like the darkness was smothering him, pressing the breath from his lungs-

"Harrington." A warm hand slipped around his waist, tugging him. Steve took a breath, and another, allowed Billy to pull him closer, to wrap him up. Billy pressed his lips to Steve's neck, light and comforting. He was so warm, he was always warm. That was the thing that Steve never understood, why the Mind Flayer chose him. He was so fucking warm, all the time, like a Californian summer. Wasn't that the opposite of what something like the Mind Flayer would have wanted? It didn't matter, it was long gone, it would stay gone if they had any luck. Steve slumped against Billy, the tension rushing out of his body. Fuck, he was tired. Billy hummed, maybe Steve had said that out loud. "It's okay, you're okay," whispered Billy, his voice soft with sleep. "I've got you." 

Steve had the strangest urge to cry, his throat tightening, his heart rate picking up again. 

Billy being in his life was a rather new development. His sharp edges had dulled a little since Starcourt, the anger he wore like a shield reined in (he was still equal parts an asshole and a charmer, but that was just who he was). He had stuck around them after all he (they) had been through, and if Tommy or Carol or anyone dared question it, well, he didn't always rein the anger in, that was for sure. He and Max still argued, but there was a fondness to it that hadn't been there before. He called her his sister too. Joyce fussed over him everytime he stepped through her door and he allowed it. Nancy gave him advice, pushed him to find something he loved and Billy hardly ever snapped at her (and if he did, she just rolled her eyes). Oh, he still teased and grumbled and tried his damn hardest to keep them all at a distance sometimes, but Billy had changed. 

After everything he had been through, that shouldn't have surprised Steve as much as it did. 

But maybe he had changed a little too. It was one thing to fight monsters, to dream of the rows and rows of teeth, the noises they made, but it was a different thing entirely to know how fucking terrible humans could be as well. Steve should have died down in that Russian base, it was pure luck that he didn't. He should have died and it would have been slow and painful, he knew that. 

He also knew the kind of things that Neil Hargrove did to his son. Who wouldn't walk around town, angry and resentful when they had a guy like that for a dad? He was an asshole and Steve wanted to punch him in the face, but Billy would never allow it. It was the one thing he was yet to act on. They all knew what happened in that damn house but he didn't speak about it, and if they _did_ , it never ended well. 

That was how they started, Steve was pretty sure, him and Billy (or maybe it was the fact that he'd basically thrown himself at Billy when he was drugged and out of his mind- he still didn't quite remember the details of _why_ he had felt the need to do that). Steve always noticed the bruises, the stiffness when he walked. He got sick of doing nothing, eventually. Billy often came to his house when he had been kicked out, or when he needed to get away. Steve didn't mind, he liked the company. It was a rare day that his parents were home, even more now that he worked at an ice cream shop and had no prospects. They hardly even bothered anymore though his mother tried to pretend she did over the phone. It could be worse, he knew. Maybe Billy wasn't ready to talk about it, to let them help, but Steve couldn't just sit back, he fucking couldn't. He had showed up once to pick up Max, Steve hadn't seen him in days and he knew why when he saw him. Steve hadn't let him leave, had dragged him into the kitchen (the kids had set up a kind of gaming room down the hall, were well out of the way), and forced him to ice the worst of his wounds, to at least let Steve patch him up. It wouldn't be the last time, either. It became a kind of routine between them, Billy showing up at his doorstep, Steve ushering him inside and fussing. 

He supposed it was only a matter of time before Billy found out about the nightmares. 

Steve had hoped, back then, that putting Billy up in the furthest spare room would be enough but sometimes the nightmares were bad, sometimes Steve woke up screaming. Billy had slammed into Steve's room within seconds, the first time he had heard it. Steve hadn't wanted to talk about it, hadn't wanted the pity. In retrospect, maybe that was how Billy felt sometimes too. But along the way, ignoring it transformed into Billy checking in every time he woke up, to staying with him until he went to sleep again, to comforting him, to holding him, to crawling into bed with him, to whatever they were now. It made it easier, better, Steve wouldn't deny it. Sometimes the guilt tore at him, that Billy had found a way to help him but Steve couldn't do the same, still let him go back home when he'd stayed away for too long knowing he was going to get hurt- but then Billy would distract him with his mouth and his hands and warm, tanned skin. Steve didn't know how he had slept at all before he'd had Billy in bed with him. 

"Baby-" Billy's hands brushed at his face, Steve realised he was crying. Fuck. His face flushed, and Billy leaned back enough to catch Steve's gaze. His eyes were so blue, even in the dark. "Where did you go?"

Steve was pretty sure he was in love, and with Billy fucking Hargrove of all people. He couldn't tell him, he just couldn't. He didn't know what this was, but he knew they never talked about it. Billy would curl up in his arms after a particularly bad night, Steve would cling to him after his nightmares, but still neither of them spoke about what it was they were doing. That made it too real, didn't it? This was easier, there was no judgement when they were like this, no questions. Max knew, she always gave them knowing looks. El knew, of course she did. She hadn't told anyone else, even if "friends don't lie". Maybe Max had said something. Steve was pretty sure that Nancy (and therefore Jonathan) had an idea, but they would never say anything, not until they were ready. 

But what if they were never ready? What if this was all it could ever be? 

"Steve," said Billy, his voice firm this time. 

Steve blinked, he had been spiralling. "Sorry," he whispered. 

Billy shook his head, "Don't be sorry, Harrington, how many times do I have to tell you that?" Billy tugged him backwards so that they were laying down, and Steve went easily, wrapping himself around Billy like an octopus. If he minded, he never said anything, just held him that much tighter. Steve took a breath, and then another. Maybe they needed to have a conversation, they couldn't keep putting it off, not forever. He wanted to tell Billy he was in love with him, that this was all he wanted, that Billy made him happy and safe and warm, but not yet. They weren't ready yet, and Steve didn't want to lose what they had now. This- just them, together, that was all that mattered. 

Steve turned his head, pressed his lips to Billy's jaw. Soft, grateful, he hoped Billy at least understood that much, even if he never said it, even if neither of them ever said it. Steve knew how much it meant to Billy that he was there for him, that he had opened his door (and his heart). He _knew_ , he could see it in his eyes, in the fond smile he always tried to hide. 

"Go back to sleep," said Billy, softly. "I'm here." 

Steve felt his eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion trying to tug him back under. Billy rubbed his hand over Steve's back, and Steve could hear the steady beat of his heart under his ear. 

Who would have thought that a year and a half ago Billy had beaten the shit out of him in the Byers' house. If someone had told him then that this was where he would be now, he would have been sure that they were on drugs (and strong ones at that). But that didn't matter, none of that mattered because Steve wouldn't trade this for the world. Billy made all of this worth it, all of the shit, all of the nightmares, all of the anxiety, everything. He made everything worth it. 

"Hey Billy?" whispered Steve.

"What?" he grumbled. 

Steve smiled a little, snuggling further into his arms. "Thank you." It wasn't _'I love you'_ , it wasn't _'I want to be with you'_ , but it was something. Steve wanted to say something, even if it wasn't exactly what he wanted to say. 

He felt Billy move, felt him let out a breath. He took one of Steve's hands and brought it up to his lips, pressed a kiss against his palm. "I know," said Billy, his voice soft. And even that, felt like it meant more. They hadn't spoken about everything but maybe, just maybe, Billy knew it all regardless, knew how Steve felt, what he wanted to say. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." 

Steve did just that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love them so much. This has spiralled quickly but I don't even care. People who don't get into shipping and fandoms are missing out on some good shit but I digress. Thanks for reading you guys! I really appreciate you even just clicking on this story.


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